A/N: Thank you so much for all your reviews, favorites, follows, and reads! The response on the last chapter was so nice and so enthusiastic. It really means a lot. I sacrificed watching Supergirl tonight so I could this chapter out for you guys because I'm so excited about it.
To the guest reviewer, Supergirl, there's already a chapter about Alex and Kara post-fight in episode 20, it's chapter 19 if you want to check it out. :)
I'll be using the poll for the next chapter, so feel free to keep voting!
Thanks again to Chesire Assasian for today's prompt.
Some additional songs for this chapter, if you want to listen, are Already Gone - Sleeping At Last, For Good - Wicked (musical) , You Learn to Live Without (also from a musical- I can't help it, I love theater) - If/Then, When I Look to the Sky - Train, Always Remember - Train, Wings - Birdy, and anything that I listed on the last chapter. :)
Okay, I'm done and also I apologize again for the sadness this chapter may evoke. Next update, I'll try to pick something happy.
She will never forget the moment she finds out. Hands hovering over the phone, bag poised on her shoulder, ready to go for the night. She's about to leave, a sigh of relief slipping from her lungs at the thought of finally going home. Then the phone rings.
She almost doesn't pick it up.
But she does, because the phone gets louder and suddenly, in a splinter of a second, the whole world is silent.
Supergirl is dead.
She wants to believe it's a lie but all throughout the night the calls roll in, the witness reports, the grainy cell phone images and low pixel videos.
Cat wants to cry. Instead, she does what she's always done.
She writes and she reports.
She steels herself and focuses on briefing facts and making statements, appearing on air numerous times throughout the night.
The news continues to pile. She bites her bottom lip to keep it from quivering as the sun pulls night out of the sky and morning only shines light on the harshness of reality.
She's on her way from one work room to another somewhere around nine in the morning, running on no sleep, feeling sharp and close to cracking because Supergirl is dead and Kara still isn't there and still hasn't answered Cat's calls and the older woman has never wanted to be more wrong about anything in her life. Her phone's been ringing all morning and it's ringing again.
She looks down, icy words already poised on her lips, when the name flashing across the screen immediately makes her soften.
Kara.
Cat feels every particle of her being lighten with relief. She closes her eyes and a smile falls across her lips as she pauses her walk, head tilting back against the wall.
She swipes to answer the call. "Kara, you have no idea how glad I am to see your name flashing across my screen." Honesty pushes through her usual curtness.
There's a soft sniffle on the other end of the call and Cat feels dread seep back into her bones. "She would have wanted you to know. She wanted you to know the truth," a voice says, soft and raw and broken.
It's all Cat needs to confirm her suspicions. It feels like she has had the wind knocked out of her.
There's a crackling sound, a bit of a rustle, a struggle and the distant scream of "What does it matter? She's dead now," the voice is biting and Cat can practically feel the hurt radiating through each vibration. "You know Kara wanted her to know the truth. She admired her."
There's more whooshing and arguing but it's too far away for Cat to make out the words. She recognizes something in the pained voice, believes it. Then the line is decimated.
Cat stands frozen in the hall. Her hands shake for the first time in years, before she even has time to process the words completely her phone is buzzing again. She wants to throw it down the hall but the name catches her attention for a million different reasons.
Carter.
Her fingers can't swipe fast enough. "Hi, baby," she says through the phone.
"Mom?" he says and she can hear the tears in his voice. "Is it true? Is she really dead?"
She rubs a hand across her forehead. "Yes," Cat manages, words cracking. She's always believed bad news is best straight-up. She slips into a supply closet, locks the door and leans against the frame. Cat Grant feels small. Cat Grant has not felt small since she was a kid, cowering beneath the weight of her mother's criticism.
"What are we gonna do?" Carter asks.
"I don't know," Cat whispers. Tears slide down her cheeks, she bunches up her hair in her hands. Cat Grant does not do tears, does not do broken; but Cat Grant also knows that some people are worth crying over.
/
Winn doesn't come in to work. Since eleven the previous night, when the news broke, he hasn't been able to pull himself from the tv and he hasn't been able to reach Alex or anyone at the DEO. He just watches as the news loops and loops and all the reports say the same thing: Supergirl is dead.
In his hands rests the fabric for Supergirl's new suit. His foot shakes and his eyes water and he can't imagine a life without his best friend.
He stands, rubs a hand over his face, grabs his car keys, and goes.
His intent is to leave everything behind, but instead, an hour and a half later, he pulls into the dirt parking lot of the DEO.
The sound of yelling reaches his car before he even opens the door, but when he does he sees Alex yelling at J'onn and Eliza. He makes out something about burying Kara and feels his heart lurch.
"Alex, wait!" Eliza calls, and wraps a gentle hand around Alex's wrist, but the brunette rips her hand away like the touch burns.
"Forget it," Alex says and turns her back on the pair and disappears into her car.
Winn stands helpless under the weight of Kara's death as the sound of Alex's door banging shakes the air and the three of them stand watching, as tears spill from Alex's eyes and run down her cheeks, splashing her jeans before she slams the steering wheel with her fist and drives off. Dust rises behind her wheels like a ghost in the morning light.
It's the last time they see her cry
.
Instead, she cries at night, into her pillow; and she curves a bundle of sheets around her fist and presses it against her mouth so the neighbors won't hear the strangled, screaming sobs that heave their way out of her lungs and spill out into the shrieking night. Sometimes she cries so hard she can't breathe, she gags, she coughs, she squeezes her eyes closed, digs her nails into her palms and wonders how much longer this can possibly go on. Sometimes, through her sobs, she whimpers Kara's name over and over again. Kara, Kara, Kara. Like it's an extra heartbeat, like it's the only word her brain knows.
Kara. Kara. Kara. Sweet, beautiful, brave Kara. And every time, there's an infinity of memories attached to the name; they all hit her and she feels both suffocated and freed at the same time.
To think of Kara is both heaven and hell.
Alex is constantly straining—constantly reaching—into the depths of her cracked and shattered memory for Kara's last words, but all she can ever come up with is thunder and pain and screaming.
Alex is drowning. Alex is burning. Alex reaches for the bottle again and tilts her head back.
/
A week after it happens they plan to send her out into the sky. It doesn't seem fair to keep Kara tethered to Earth, tethered to one planet when there is so much of herself, of her family spread out through the universe. It breaks Alex's heart, because what is life on Earth, to her, if Kara isn't there to share it?
They all stand there—Alex, Eliza, Hank, James, Winn, and so many other people all changed for the better, because a little blonde alien fell from the sky one sunny afternoon—and wait for the rain to clear. Cat is there, too, broadcasting the ceremony and uniting the world in the sorrow they all share. The storm is relentless, crackling and booming as if the soils and skies of the earth are mourning the loss of Supergirl, too.
When the rain finally stills enough to launch the pod, Alex feels ice flow through her veins and break the numbness she has worn like a mask.
"Mom," she says, voice sharp and urgent like it's dangling on the edge of a cliff. "We can't do this." She shakes her head and her heart is louder than the storm raging among the stars and tears are lacing her words, but she blinks and they vanish with the next deep breath and everything is just falling down and crashing and all she can see is a thirteen year old Kara. "We can't send her away from another planet, from another family. It's not fair… I'm not abandoning her. She can't be abandoned, Mom; not again. Not by us. We made a promise—I made a promise."
Eliza nods and wraps an arm around Alex, pulling the brunette against her. Alex presses her face into her mother's shoulder, so no one can see her tears as Supergirl is lowered back to Earth.
/
Another week passes for Alex, some mix of crying through the night—and slamming her fist against pillows and squeezing sheets between her fingers until her skin is raw and her eyes burn—and waking every morning to pretend like it never happened, to go through the motions of each day with so much precision, so much focus on not thinking about Kara, that everyone around Alex is both impressed and concerned with the amount of stability she seems to exert.
So she continues her façade—her dance—and is torn by the guilt of acting like Kara never existed. But damn it, she'll take guilt over the burning, white pain of losing her sister, that scorches each cell. Every moment brings thought of Kara, and Alex finds herself fighting each second just to stay afloat and keep her chin above the toxic, murky waters of memory.
But the rapids rise and she finds her head submerged and she wants to drink herself into oblivion, but every time she looks at alcohol she starts to hear Kara's sweet voice in her head and Alex cannot bear to let her sister down one more time. So that night, with shaking hands and tired muscles the brunette pours all the alcohol down her kitchen sink and sits on the floor with Kara's apartment key in her palm, she runs it over her hand until the skin turns pink and knows she'll have to go there eventually.
/
One night, exactly six days later, Alex gets in her car and drives, because she needs to get away from the apartment that feels too empty, too quiet. Needs to get away from her apartment where Kara is no longer under blankets and curled on the couch or dancing in the kitchen or throwing popcorn at Alex during movie marathons; and so Alex stumbles into CatCo more than half a mess in her grief.
It's late, and the moon is hanging high in the sky, leaking white into the darkness. Kara's floor is void of activity, the desks lacking people, the hall lacking noise. Alex breathes in the silence, imagines Kara following the same path from the elevator to her desk—Alex's intended destination.
She sinks into Kara's chair with a sigh and can still smell the faint scent of her sister's perfume. Alex closes her eyes and allows herself just one moment of memory, but it's overwhelming, it's too heavy and she shoots out of the chair.
Alex runs her hands over the desk and before she can even think she's throwing open the drawers, her hands desperate, in search of something she will never reach.
She sifts through the drawers, spilling highlighters and pens and blue paperclips Alex remembers Kara buying. There are pictures and little trinkets, like a small moose from the lake house they visited every other summer and a metal turtle from a spring trip to Florida, and each time Alex finds them, she treats them as though they are gold, easing them out of the madness that has erupted around her.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Alex looks up, and upon seeing the young woman's face Cat puts the connection together, runs through her mind all the previous encounters with the brunette. Agent Danvers is Alex: Alex is Kara's sister. Oh. It hurts like a pick in her heart.
"Her desk is still here." Alex looks Cat in the eyes. "Her desk is still here and no one's touched it."
Cat shrugs and walks over to take a seat across from the desk. "Some things are hard to let go of."
Alex nods with an understanding she shouldn't have. As she begins to speak, her gaze shifts down and her fingers rotate the little turtle in her hands, over and over, feeling each corner and curve. "Today… Today is her landing day. You know, when she came here." If Kara trusted Cat, then Alex trusts her, too, and somehow it makes her feel closer to her sister.
Cat nods. "She always spoke highly of you."
Alex gives a watery smile. "Yeah, well, she spoke highly of you, too."
"I always had a feeling she was Supergirl," Cat says, lowering her voice.
"She wanted to tell you."
"It was you on the phone that day?"
Alex nods and swallows a lump in her throat. She hasn't talked to anyone about Kara's death and suddenly she feels all the words piling up on the tip of her tongue.
"Supergirl will certainly be missed. She was really special."
A long, shuddery breath shakes Alex's ribs and Cat is instantly hit with the feeling that she has said something wrong.
Alex rotates in Kara's seat, toeing the ground beneath her. "Everyone always says that." She heaves a heavy sigh. "They always talk about Supergirl, but nobody ever talks about Kara," Alex says and her voice cracks. She doesn't know why she's sharing this with a stranger, but she can't stop. Her bottom lip quivers and she pulls it between her teeth as her eyes water. "I loved—I love—Kara, I miss Kara. But no one else does. They all see Supergirl and it's not-" she swallows and Cat watches as the brunette's shoulders shake. "It's not fair."
Alex hiccups and wipes her cheeks and as this steely woman falls apart, Cat knows that more than anything, Kara would have wanted the older woman to look after the agent. Cat owes that much to Kara after everything the late superhero did for her.
"I'm sorry," Alex murmurs. "I'm not usually like this… It's just—we usually spend this day together, but now she's gone and I… I feel like I'm all alone." Alex shrugs and drags another hand across her face. "I miss her."
"I miss her, too," Cat says, standing and pulling Alex into a hug. Two people bound by some combination of tragedy and luck, for having shared Kara's presence for as long as they did.
Alex let's her face fall against Cat's shoulder. She has never been so vulnerable in her life. There is a painful tug always, constantly, persistently yanking in her chest and she fears that it won't ever go away.
"I miss Kara," Cat specifies and Alex nods. Everything is broken.
"I know," the brunette manages between sobs. "I was supposed to protect her. I was supposed to keep her safe."
Cat rubs the stranger's shoulders, holds her tighter. "Your sister loved you so much."
"I didn't hear her last words," Alex says and looks up. "She was dying and the thunder was too loud and I didn't hear what she said. I will never know what she said."
It's impossible to respond to that. The two women stand, showered in moonlight and grief.
/
Alex storms into Kara's apartment a month after the blonde's passing and the agent is so impossibly angry. A path of red and scorching flame trails behind her as she slams the door and enters her sister's apartment for the first time since Kara died.
"Damn it, Kara! Why'd you have to leave?" Alex yells into the emptiness. Her voice echoes back.
It's three in the morning and Alex's eyes are red and her hands are shaking and she can hardly control the upheaval of emotions swirling inside her like a hurricane. She is buzzing with energy, trembling with sadness. Everything is too much. It's too much and nobody ever notices.
She kicks Kara's couch and appreciates the way the pain pulsates from her foot up her leg. Anything hurts less than the gaping void she feels every time she breathes. She knocks a mug off the counter, and hates the way it makes her think of Kara's heat vision.
Alex screams into a pillow then heaves it across the room so it hits the wall and falls with a thump. Then she yanks a book off the shelf and throws it across the apartment, flinging it with all her might.
It collides with a small ceramic bowl, with little green beads and red glitter and gold Christmas trees drawn in metallic sharpie, sends the object off the counter and onto the ground.
Alex freezes. She and Kara made that bowl together, on their first Christmas together, after they'd fallen asleep on the couch, leaning on each other for the first time in their young lives. They swore it would never be broken and despite its overt Christmas theme, Kara refused to ever put it away.
A sob works its way into Alex's throat and a hand rises to cover her mouth. She runs a worried finger against her lip. Her eyes are wide as she rushes over and sinks to the ground, a pile of shattered glass in festive hues scattered all over the floor and pulling blood from her uncovered skin.
"I'm sorry," Alex cries and the walls of the house seem to echo in reply. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
Her head falls into her hands, fall into the knees pulled against her chest. Everything is broken. Nothing will ever be the same. She is so sorry. She is so sorry she can hardly breathe.
With tear blurred vision and limp legs Alex pulls Kara's favorite sweater out of her closet and collapses into the bed, with the fabric pulled up to her nose. She wants to remember everything, she wants to remember everything even though it hurts more than anything she'd ever imagined.
Her eyes slip closed and she breathes easy for the first time since Kara died. "I love you," she whispers and the walls whisper back. I love you. I love you. I love you.
Dream is a montage of Kara, an ode to her sister and then come the long sought words. "The third drawer from the top on the left side of my dresser. Open it, when you go home. I love… I love y-"
Alex's eyes shoot open, her body lurches up so that the sheets pool at her waist, and she knows—she just knows—that sleep has brought her Kara's last words.
The brunette scrambles out of bed with a feverish passion, her feet skim the floor as she rushes to Kara's dresser, pulls on the lights as she passes, and throws open the drawer. Inside there's a small purple shoe box, Alex pulls it out and gently tugs off the top.
Her heart thunders will love when she looks inside. She shuffles past a stack of envelopes each with a name on the top written in Kara's neat, swirly text. Eliza. Jerimiah. Winn. James. Lucy. J'onn. Cat. Carter. And then, there's a pile just for Alex and the deeper she gets the less neat the handwriting comes, until it resembles Kara's script when she just landed on Earth and it's dated with Kara's landing date, years and years ago.
Alex's hand covers her mouth and salty tears drip from her eyes onto her fingers before they splatter onto the floor. Among the first letter are movie tickets and friendship bracelets and pictures; and Kara's been keeping this box since she first arrived.
Alex's picks up an envelope with a date just a few months prior, in small little writing it says "This one first." So Alex eases the envelope open with delicate fingers and her breath is caught in her throat.
'Alex,
If you're reading this, then, well… You know what happened. Before I say anything else, I want to say one more thing as much as I can. I love you, I love you, I love you. You are the best sister I could have ever wanted, you are the best thing that exists in my life and I am forever grateful.
Do you remember when you took me to my first Earth movie? It was Freaky Friday. I still have the ticket. Is that weird? I hope you don't think it's weird.'
Alex laughed and sobbed at the same time.
'It's just that it meant so much to me, to have you on my side. It meant so much to finally have a sister and a best friend. I love you more than all the universe combined and I need you to know that I still love you. Even when I'm gone—even that I am gone—I still love you; and I am always, always with you. You are never alone because sisters are forever and I am forever your sister.'